From Hell with Love
by Dire Banshee
Summary: Dean has spent over a century as Alastair's pet. During Heaven/Hell peace talks he is given to Castiel to care for. Not a happy fic. Includes Dean/Cas and Dean/Alastair, slash, and dub-con, more warnings inside, written for the kink meme
1. Chapter 1

Title: From Hell With Love

Author: Dire Banshee

Pairing: Dean/Castiel, implied Dean/Alastair

Genre: AU after Season 3, you just need to know who Alastair and Castiel are

Rating: NC-17

Word Count: 3,237

Warnings: could be considered dub-con with mentions of past, accidental orgasm denial?, Brainwashed!Sex-slave!Dean, I'm not really sure but not as dark as it could be, promise

Disclaimer: Yes, I, Eric Kripke, have nothing better to do with my time than write fanfic of my own show. Pffft, I wish! Not mine :(

Summary: Prompt from the spnkink_meme. AU Dean is given as a gift to Castiel during heaven-hell peace talks. (preferably set after s3), Alistair didn't just torture Dean, he trained him to be a perfect slave up to the point where it's torture for him to be without sex for more than a few hours. Castiel ends up using his new pet who desperately needs sex. At first Cas doesn't know what to do, but he ends up trying to satisfy Dean's needs to keep him from suffering.

Alastair absently ran his fingers through his pets' short hair, listening with half an ear as his Lord Lucifer negotiated with his former brother, Michael.

It had all gone off without a hitch. Dean Winchester had finally broken, picking up a blade and opening the first lock on Lucifer's cage, and all the pieces had fallen into place. Lilith's pet witch, Ruby, had led the grieving Sam, who was even now being coddled in Hell, being groomed to take his place at Lucifer's right hand, on his path to freeing the Morningstar. Even Hell's chief torturer had to give the little demon credit, Sam barely even remembered his brother, the reason for starting his crusade in the first place, and Alastair was glad. He had taken quite a shine to Dean's stubborn resilience in those thirty years he'd hung on the rack, was honestly impressed by his creativity after he'd finally fallen under the demon's tutelage, but there was something else, Dean's deep-seated need to please, that had given Alastair his greatest idea to date and led Dean to where he was now. Seated at the demon's feet, head resting on his lap as his hands stroked his master's legs and thighs, trailing higher to caress between his legs and whimpering softly when Alastair pushed his hand away.

Insatiable, was his Dean, but Lucifer had demanded at least a small amount of decorum while they dealt with the Heavenly Host. Alastair chuckled softly to himself, no; it wouldn't do to shock the angels too badly. Not until the right moment at least.

"So, it's settled," Lucifer proclaimed. "Earth is mine, with no interference from Heaven, for the next two thousand years, or until Dad decides to give a crap again."

"Not quite," the archangel said. "Your Chosen resides in Hell, as promised. We have yet to receive ours."

Lucifer smiled amiably. "Of course. Alastair, hand him over."

The demon's head came up from where he'd allowed it to fall when Dean had moved his beautiful mouth to the fastenings of the demon's leathers, and looked to his king.

"My Lord?"

"The Righteous Man belongs to Heaven. He's been your pet for nearly a century below, you can find another."

Alastair clenched his jaw, his fingers tightening in Dean's hair hard enough to draw a moan from the man. Lucifer turned and fixed the demon with the full weight of his stare, reminding him and everyone else gathered that, cast out or not, he was still an archangel.

"Of course, my Lord," Alastair hissed and shoved Dean away, hard enough that the man came to rest up against the legs of the angels flanked beside Michael.

Dean barely spared a glance for the beings above him before he tried to roll away, get back to the demon who'd been his everything for so long but the angels reached down to restrain him. Dean struggled, kicking and clawing and Lucifer raised an eyebrow at Alastair, a silent command.

"You're theirs now, Dean," Alastair snarled, standing. Dean froze, wide confused eyes fixed on Alastair's face until the demon turned and walked away. Lucifer laced his fingers together on top of the table and looked expectantly at his brother; the ball was in his court now, so to speak.

Without breaking eye contact with Lucifer, Michael called over his shoulder, "Castiel."

The angel in question stepped forward and Michael gestured to the Dean.

"He is your charge now," he said. "Whatever he needs you'll provide."

"Of course, Michael," Castiel agreed obediently.

Lucifer barely held in a chuckle as Castiel led Dean away. The little seraph was in way over his head with Alastair's favored pet, he only wished he could be around to see when the shit hit the fan. Lucifer snorted then, he so loved the expressions humans came up with.

Dean followed this new master down corridors of light, nothing at all like the dark, blood spattered pathways of Hell, not knowing what to expect. He didn't know why Alastair had given him away, the demon had seemed so pleased with him only moments before, had spoken of what he'd have Dean do when they returned home. Dean was certain he'd done nothing to anger the demon but if Alastair had cast him away, given him to this new creature, he would do everything in his power to please. Already, the ache was starting deep inside, his body begging to be filled, to wring pleasure from his master with lips and hands and ass, to serve as he was meant to. He could feel a needy whine building up in his throat but Dean swallowed it down until he learned what this new master wanted of him.

Castiel opened the door to the room that had been set aside for the Righteous Man and led the way inside then closed it after Dean had entered. The angel's mind was whirling. Dean Winchester was his very first charge and, the more he thought of it, the more daunting it seemed. Souls that spent any time in Hell were traumatized and Dean had been dead for nearly 16 months Earth time; almost 160 years spent in the Pit, and Castiel worried that there would be nothing human left of the man but he was determined to prove Michael right in choosing him for the task. Squaring his shoulders and drawing his wings tight to his back Castiel turned to offer Dean food and drink, comforts he'd seen many souls in Heaven partake in even though they no longer needed such things, but nearly tripped over the man who was kneeling on the floor at the angel's feet. Dean quickly scrambled out of his way; head ducked down like a dog expecting a blow.

"Sorry," he whispered as he curled on the floor. "So sorry."

Castiel quickly moved to the human's side, going to one knee beside him and laying a gentle hand on his shoulder. Dean flinched at the contact.

"Be at peace, Dean Winchester," Castiel intoned softly. "No harm will come to you here. You are safe."

Dean chanced a glance up as his new master's hand settled on his shoulder. Alastair had always had a kick ready for when he got in the way but there seemed to be no blow coming. The blue eyes of his new master were soft, gentle, things Dean barely remembered but wanted more of. Slowly, trying to read the wants of the creature before him, Dean pressed his cheek to the winged man's upraised knee. When that action was met with only a slight tilt of the head, Dean moved closer, nuzzling his master's thigh, running a hand up his other leg to settle on his hip. Master's hand tightened on his shoulder and Dean closed the last bit of distance to press his mouth between Master's legs, tongue emerging to caress the flesh beneath the soft blue material of his pants.

Eyes widening in shock, Castiel jerked back so quickly he lost his balance and landed on his ass on the floor, wings spread behind him in a futile attempt to maintain his balance. The thought that Dean might want _that_ from him had never crossed the angel's mind. But, he reminded himself, Dean had been in Hell for a very long time, certain… appetites were to be expected and Michael would never give an assignment to an angel he thought unable to carry it out. Castiel knew his brother Uriel, the only one he was close enough to to feel comfortable asking about something like this, would only find the idea offensive even though Dean was special, to be upheld above all other souls in Heaven.

_Whatever he needs you'll provide_. Michael's voice rang through his memory and Castiel nodded to himself, he would not fail in his first task. Glancing over at Dean, who's green eyes were as wide as Castiel's had been moments ago, the angel wet his lips with the tip of his tongue before lowering his hands to the waist band of his pants. Dean kept his eyes locked on Master's face as he licked his lips before pushing his pants down his legs. He wasn't sure what he'd done wrong that had made Master pull away like that but if he was being offered a second chance he wasn't going to waste it. He slowly crawled to where Master had sprawled himself on the ground and was freeing his legs from the bunched material. Dean was familiar with the position, Alastair had sometimes liked to wallow in the blood and entrails of his victims while Dean pleasured him and the human vowed to do his very best. Master was watching him with wide blue eyes, so unlike the whites and reds, blacks and yellows that dotted the Pit, as Dean placed hands and knees on either side of his legs and lowered his mouth to Master's flesh.

Castiel sucked in a breath as Dean's mouth pressed against his hip, breath hot against his skin, wet tongue darting out to lave the flesh. He looked down at the human as he moved to a new spot, repeating the action, adding a bit of suction this time, and frowned. Dean wished to give him pleasure? He had thought for certain that the human would demand his own satisfaction after being so long amid the tortures of Hell, humans weren't known for their charity after all, but Dean seemed to be full of surprises. Dean's breath fell, hot and moist, over the soft piece of flesh between Castiel's legs and the angel jerked at the sensation, his head falling back. Though there were those of his brother's-in-arms that were mated or shared these pleasures with each other, Castiel never had. He'd never been drawn to another angel in such a way as to want to, but now he felt the stirring he'd only ever heard others speak of, felt the lightening zing through his veins as Dean's mouth closed around him.

Oh! Oh, it was wondrous!

This, too, was familiar, Dean recalled as he licked and sucked at Master's limp cock. Sometimes Alastair would keep his body at this stage for hours, keeping Dean's mouth on him for what felt like eternity until his jaw cramped and his saliva ran dry, promising punishment if he couldn't even do something so simple as give a decent blowjob. A soft whine escaped Dean's throat at the thought, hoping that that wasn't what Master had in mind. Dean drew Master in all the way, until his lips touched the crisp hairs at the base of his shaft and sucked as hard as he could, breathing a sigh of relief as Master cried out, his back arching off the floor, and finally, finally, began to fill. Master soon filled Dean's mouth and he had to pull back as Master's length filled out, long and thick and hard, covered in velvety soft skin, so much better than the spines and barbs that adorned the cocks of some of the demons Alastair had shared Dean with.

Castiel found himself unable to control his body as Dean pulled back and suckled on the head of his erection, his hips jerking involuntarily, wanting to get further into the amazing heat of the human's mouth, his fingers clenching and unclenching at his sides as his wings and shoulders twitched with each hard suck or swirl of tongue. It was amazing and Castiel couldn't help but give thanks to his Father for bestowing such a gift upon his children. Dean began to bob his head as he sucked, on hand stroking the base of Castiel's shaft, squeezing ever so often, while the other caressed his balls, rolling the sacks between his fingers making the angel sigh and moan beneath him.

It soon occurred to Castiel that he should not be the only one receiving pleasure. This was a gift to be shared and he wished to share it with Dean, he wished to very much. He pushed himself up on one elbow, reaching out his other hand to the human straddling him. Dean pulled off with one final long hard suck before shimmying out of his jeans and settling in the angel's lap so quickly Castiel's wings gave a startled flap. One of Dean's hands was braced against the floor, helping him keep his balance while the other gripped Castiel's erection, holding him steady as the human rose high enough to press the tip against his entrance.

Castiel felt incredible heat and tightness close around him and let his head fall back as a moan tore from his throat. Oh, it got better! Father be praised!

Dean bit his lip as he let his weight slide him down onto Master's cock. It wasn't a smooth journey, too dry flesh catching and sticking with nothing but spit to ease the way, but Dean was used to it, knew just how fast he could go without tearing himself to pieces inside and Master was letting him, only resting his hands on Dean's thighs, not pulling, just holding until Dean's ass was pressed firm against Master's lap. Master was panting; his eyes squeezed tight shut in pleasure as Dean flexed his inner muscles around the cock inside him.

Castiel brought his knees up, bracing his feet against the floor, as his wings wrapped around the human in his lap, burying them both in a cocoon of silvery blue feathers. Dean jolted as they brushed his skin, soft as air, silk and cotton all rolled into one. He closed his teeth in this bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, attempting to hold off his orgasm. He couldn't come until Master said he could. That had been one of the first things Alastair had taught him and it was a lesson he'd learned well. The pain in his lip wasn't enough, especially when Master's hand closed on his own straining length, nearly purple from almost a week of denial. It wasn't the longest he'd gone without coming, but Master's soft touches and the feel of him inside, pressing against that spot that made Dean's blood sing, was too much.

He tasted blood as he braced a hand on Master's knee and roughly jerked his body upwards. He would have regretted the action for the pain it caused to rip through his body except that it had the desired effect, giving Dean back his control with the added bonus of now having enough blood to slick the way for his Master. Even Alastair had complained that, if not for the chafing, he'd be fucking Dean dry every time.

Castiel frowned at the sudden slickness around his shaft but the thought was soon buried as Dean slid down his length, paused once fully seated again then flexed his muscles around Castiel, before gliding upwards again. Castiel groaned, his hand tightening on Dean's erection and beginning to stroke as Dean had done to him earlier with his mouth. He twisted his hand as he pulled up, forming a tight ring with his fingers beneath the leaking head before stroking his thumb over the spot Dean's tongue had caressed on him that had felt so good. He swept his thumb up over the head, across the slit in the tip, then pulled his fist down Dean's length again, spreading the slick fluid over his silken skin. Dean's mouth had fallen open, his breaths coming out as fast pants as he began to move faster over Castiel's length and the angel smiled at the pleasure he was giving the human.

Master had slipped his free arm around Dean's waist, pulling him close enough for his aching dick to leave smears of precome on Master's taut belly, the angle hitting his sweet spot head on with every thrust no matter how Dean moved his hips. Dean's hands fell to Master's shoulders, holding hard enough to bruise as he prayed that Master would cum soon. If he came after Master then maybe the punishment wouldn't be as bad but he had to make Master cum, he just had to!

Heat was gathering low in Castiel's belly, a delicious weight that promised… he didn't even know what. His hips began to jerk up into Dean, harder and faster than the rhythm the human had established but after a few thrusts Dean changed his pace, matching Castiel's urgency, fingers digging into the angel's shoulders as Castiel's hands fell to his hips, holding tight.

Dean felt Master's fingers digging into his hips, heard his breathing hitch and his length swell inside him then, with a choked cry Master was coming in thick hot spurts inside of him. It bathed his insides, finding the tears and abrasions and stinging like crazy but again, it was nothing Dean wasn't used to. And Master had stopped touching his cock, allowing Dean to regain control of himself, to not embarrass Alastair to this new Master. Dean smiled.

Castiel slowly regained his breath, lifting his face from where he'd buried it in the crook of Dean's neck. Dean was smiling and the angel smiled back.

"Thank you, Dean," he said softly.

The human ducked his head, the tips of his ears turning red and Castiel couldn't resist pressing his lips to one of them. He felt Dean shiver as he became aware of the human's still hard and leaking erection pressed between them and realized that Dean had not yet experienced the pleasure that had ripped through Castiel's grace moments before. A situation Castiel intended to remedy immediately.

Dean couldn't hold in the cry that tore from him when Master took him in hand again and began to stroke. He sank his teeth back into his bitten lip, tried to recall his time on the rack, anything to hold off the pleasure spiraling through is veins until Master said he could.

Castiel pressed soft kisses to Dean's neck and collar bones, tongue tentatively sweeping out to taste his skin as the human writhed in his lap. He ran his palm over the steadily leaking head of Dean's shaft, pulling a sob from the man, listened to his breathing catch and stutter, Dean's head thrown back and wetness beginning to leak from the corners of his eyes. Castiel frowned, pressing his face into Dean's nape again, wondering what he was doing wrong.

"Please, Dean," he begged. "What do you need me to do? It's glorious. I want you to feel it, too."

That seemed to be all it took. Dean let out a wail then he was spurting streaks of white all over Castiel's fist and torso, his own belly, as he gasped and shuddered in the angel's arms. Castiel held him through it all until the last aftershocks had left him limp and pliant. He swept a hand over Dean's damp hair and effortlessly stood with the man in his arms, cleaning them both with a thought before gently depositing Dean in his bed and drawing the downy blanket over his nude body.

"Sleep now, Dean," Castiel said.

"Thank you, Master," Dean replied, asleep almost before his head hit the pillow so he didn't see the way Castiel stiffened, his wings snapping open in shock.

Recovering his pants from where they'd been abandoned earlier, Castiel swiftly clothed himself before easing from the room. He needed to speak with Michael. Something terrible had just happened.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: From Hell With Love, pt. 2

Author: Dire Banshee

Pairing: Dean/Castiel, implied past Dean/Alastair

Genre: AU after Season 3, you just need to know who Alastair and Castiel are

Rating: NC-17

Word Count: 2,705

Warnings: wing!kink, bath!kink, blowjob, fingering

Disclaimer: Yes, I, Eric Kripke, have nothing better to do with my time than write fanfiction of my own show. Pffft, I wish. Not mine, never will be :(

Author's Note: I'm just gonna say right now that this series will mostly be an exploration of various kinks and a whole lotta smut with just a very small dash of plot. Think of it as an extended PWP and enjoy :-) and hopefully it won't take me a whole month to get part three up *rolls eyes at self*

Michael glanced up as Castiel's grace announced his presence outside the archangel's quarters. He scrubbed a hand over his face, schooling his features as he granted the Seraphim admittance. He had much to discuss with Castiel about Dean and what would be required to aid in the human's recovery from his time below and his near-century as Alastair's special pet. As per their agreement Lucifer had disclosed the specifics of the Righteous Man's stay in Hell, which included the needs Alastair had instilled in him. Michael hadn't been surprised at the list of things the demon had subjected Dean to; after all, the Archangel had been the one to cast Alastair down to Perdition for his wickedness when the demon had still been human.

"Michael."

Castiel's voice drew the archangel's attention and, looking into the other angel's wide eyes and troubled face, Michael silently cursed himself. He'd been too caught up in his own joy and pain at finally seeing his brother again after so long that he'd failed, Castiel and Dean both. It didn't take a terribly intelligent being to understand what had happened between them and Michael felt his grace clench inside him.

Castiel looked lost, his fingers absently gripping and twisting in the hem of his shirt as his wings twitched restlessly behind him. Confusion and failure radiated from the Seraph before him and Michael found himself unable to meet Castiel's eyes.

"Forgive me, Brother," he said and Castiel frowned, wings stilling briefly. Michael motioned to one of the cushions beside him, bidding Castiel to sit. "I should have told you sooner."

Dean was awake by the time Castiel returned, naked and kneeling in front of the door, waiting for him. Taking a steadying breath, Castiel stepped into the room and shut the door before looking down at the soul before him.

"Hello Dean."

The man gazed up at him with glazed green eyes, his slightly trembling body covered in a light sheen of sweat.

"Master," he breathed, need plain in his voice.

Castiel fought not to react to the title, clenching his jaw and swallowing hard as he reached out to Dean. Dean moved forward to press his cheek against Castiel's palm as his own hands went to the fastenings of the angel's pants. Castiel let his head and shoulders rest against the door behind him, his wings pressed tight to his back and his eyes fixed somewhere on the far wall as Dean took him into his mouth. It was different from last time, Castiel's body knew what awaited it now, was eager for it, and the angel closed his eyes in shame as he became fully hard in seconds.

Dean hummed in contentment as Master's thickness filled his mouth, his hand cupping Dean's skull, fingers gentle in his hair. He reveled in the sounds Master made as Dean swallowed him down; encasing him in the tight, wet heat of his throat.

Castiel closed his eyes and tried to fight the sounds that rose as Dean worked his traitorous flesh. He fought to control the twitches and jerks of his hips as his body longed to thrust as deeply into the heat surrounding it as he could. A whimper escaped him as Dean pulled back, never leaving him completely, to suck in a breath through his nose.

Dean could feel the tension in the body beneath his hands and pulled back, keeping his lips tight around Master's cock, until just the head remained in his mouth. Master whimpered above him, the fingers in Dean's hair tightening fractionally as he began to suck. He ran his tongue over and around the flesh in his mouth, laving the sensitive underside, flicking into the slit as he brought his hand up to encase the rest of Master's length and stroke. He heard Master's breath catch a second before he filled Dean's mouth and Dean swallowed him down, cooling the fire that raged inside him. It never went out completely but the touch of Master's skin, his body inside Dean's, was enough to momentarily bank the flames.

Dean edged closer as Master sank to the ground, daring to press close and was rewarded by Master flaring out his large wings and pulling the human to him, cocooning them both in his impossibly soft feathers.

Castiel ran gentle fingers through Dean's shaggy hair (Alistair had liked something to hold onto) as the human began to relax against him. He nuzzled into the angel's thigh as Castiel stroked him, soothing the human as the angel gathered his thoughts.

Dean leaned into the angel's touch, humming contentedly. He was still half hard but being allowed to bask in Master's affection was better than an orgasm any day. The human twisted slowly beneath Castiel's hand, subtly guiding the course of his gentle touch from Dean's head, down his neck to his broad shoulders and further. Castiel's fingers bumped over the hills of Dean's ribs, swept down the shallow dip of his waist and rose over the curve of his hip and rested there; thumb slowly stroking the soft, pale flesh before dipping lower, following the curve of his hipbone to trace the soft crease between thigh and groin. Dean made a quiet, happy sound and shifted, pressing closer to the touch.

As the human shifted, the angel caught a flash of red on Dean's inner thigh. With a sick feeling settling in his Grace, Castiel moved his hand from Dean's hip to his knee and pushed his legs apart. The human was pliant beneath his hands, Dean's own already moving to the places that had given the angel pleasure earlier but Castiel pushed them away as he took in the blood staining Dean's skin and immediately knew what had happened. This was Heaven, there should be no pain here, not blood nor wounds to free it, but he knew, better than most, that reality here was shaped, for the most part, by human thought. If a soul expected an action to hurt, to rip and tear, it would. Hell was more like the mortal plane in regards to sensation and it had been Dean's home for over a century, pain was what he was accustomed to but still, Castiel grit his teeth at the pain his pleasure had brought the human.

Dean's hands were back, gripping and stroking and Castiel pulled away.

"No, Dean!" he commanded and immediately regretted his tone as a fearful expression clouded Dean's face before the human scrambled to his knees, head bent, waiting for the angel's wrath.

Dean couldn't help the flinch that jerked his frame when Master's hand settled on his shoulder.

'_Stupid,_' he thought, '_pushed my hands away, should've kept them down, gonna get it now, deserve it…'_

"Dean," Castiel said his charge's name softly. The human glanced up at him.

"Come with me, Dean," he continued, gently drawing the human to his feet and leading him toward the bathroom Dean's mind had subconsciously conjured. It was small, a twin to any of the hundreds of motel rooms that had been Dean's home for most of his life. The small tiles on the floor were a color of yellow that offended Castiel's eyes; there were so many things in his Father's creation that were beautiful, why did humans persist in producing things that weren't? There was a toilet crammed into a corner between the far wall and a cracked pedestal sink, with a shower stall across from them barely large enough to fit a grown human.

Castiel could feel his lip curl as he stood in the cramped space, his large wings drawn near painfully tight to his back so he could fit in the room, and decided to take matters into his own hands. This place was barely fit for a demon's use let alone the Righteous Man who would save them all.

Now that he had the basic template it was no trouble for the angel to tendril his Grace out to the room; the walls pushed back until the bathroom was nearly the size of the bedroom, the toilet was hidden from the rest of the room by a wall while the sink stretched out along its wall, cracked porcelain transforming to hammered bronze as the shower disappeared completely to be replaced by a sunken marble tub on a raised portion of the floor, reminiscent of the large Roman baths Castiel had once visited the last time he'd been on Earth. A mirror stretched the length of the sink and the ugly yellow tiles turned to deep-sapphire colored glass.

All of this happened in the blink of an eye and Castiel stretched his wings out as a soft, cool breeze blew in through the openings in the wall by the tub, showcasing a lush garden, _the_ Garden, thick with greenery and every type of flower to be found on Earth and those that grew in no other plane of existence. Hearing a soft gasp, Castiel refolded his wings and turned to face Dean who was staring at his surroundings in wonder until he caught sight of himself in the mirror. Flinching back from his reflection Dean immediately trained his gaze on the floor, his sub-conscience shrinking the mirror into non-existence as Castiel held out a hand.

"Dean," he said softly, trying to make up for his earlier harsh tone. The tone didn't seem to register to Dean as he jerked his gaze to the angel and, though Castiel could feel the fear radiating off the soul, he still hurried to the angel's side, too well-trained to do anything else. He sank to his knees at Castiel's feet, head down and curled in on himself.

"Master," he whispered. "I'm sorry."

Castiel laid a gentle hand on Dean's back, fighting back a flash of hatred for the demon Alastair as the human flinched at his touch. There was nothing he could do to or about the demon now so he devoted his attention to Dean, sinking to his knees before the soul and speaking softly.

"You've nothing to be sorry for, Dean, and I'm not angry."

Dean chanced a glance up, green eyes wide and wary. Castiel tried to smile reassuringly but wasn't sure how well he succeeded.

He let his hand slide from the human's shoulder down to his hand and gave a gentle tug as he backed toward the sunken tub that was now filled with steaming water.

"Come," he said, sinking into the hot water, slowly pulling a hesitant Dean after him.

Dean followed Master into the steaming water, steeling himself for the burn that was sure to follow but couldn't stop the surprised look that crossed his face when he found the liquid only pleasantly warm, a pleased sigh escaping him as he sank into the water up to his neck. He heard Master chuckle before his strong hands pulled Dean back against his chest and began running slick palms over his skin.

Little by little, Dean slowly relaxed under Castiel's hands as the angel gently washed away the blood and sweat and lingering traces of Hell until he was boneless in the angel's arms, his head resting on Castiel's shoulder, his face turned toward Castiel's neck, his hot puffs of breath making the angel shiver. Dean's tongue darted out, licking up a drop of water from Master's neck. Dean tensed as Master's hands stilled on his hips, wondering if he'd done something wrong again, but then Master's hands resumed their lazy journey over Dean's body as his low voice rumbled in the human's ear.

"You have nothing to fear from me, Dean. I never wished to hurt you," one large hand swept to his inner thigh, Master's fingers trailing, feather light, over his entrance and Dean shivered. "No harm will come to you here," Castiel continued as Dean trembled in his embrace. "I wish you to know only pleasure in this place, if you'll let me."

He felt Dean let out a shaking breath against his neck as the angel moved his hand up to grip the human's renewed erection and give it a firm stroke. Fighting down his own arousal, Castiel wrapped his free arm around Dean's hips, holding the human close to him as he stroked Dean, pulling low groans from deep in his chest. The angel ran his palm over the head of Dean's erection, the man arching into his grasp with a gasp, his hands sweeping down to grip Castiel's thighs, grounding himself and trying to arch up into the touch but held down by Master's arm around his waist. He could feel Master's cock, hard and hot, pressed against his backside and Dean tried to press back against it but Master shifted him in his lap, bringing his legs up between Deans and spreading them wide, removing his leverage. Dean whimpered, gripping Master's thighs and trying to move himself back but Master stopped him with both hands on his hips.

"No, Dean," Castiel said, voice low in his ear. "Don't worry about me. Just feel. Can you do that for me?"

Dean huffed out a breath, Master's low gravely voice sending a shiver down his spine and heat pooling in his belly and nodded.

"Yes," he breathed.

"Good."

Castiel pressed Dean's hands back to where the human had been gripping him and spoke low in his ear, "Hold onto me."

He returned his hand to Dean's cock and cupped his balls with the other, listening to Dean gasp and writhe in his arms as he stroked him. It was nothing Dean hadn't heard before, Alastair had promised the same off and on but usually with the provision of '_if you do what you're told_' before it. It never lasted of course but Dean was determined to make the most of Master's benevolent mood for as long as it lasted. Releasing his thigh Dean gripped Master's wrist and moved his hand from his balls down between his legs with a strangled "Please".

"Please what, Dean?" Castiel asked, genuinely curious. "Tell me what you want."

"Inside," Dean groaned. "Your fingers or your cock – I need – please."

Dean covered Castiel's hand with his own, pressing the angel's long fingers into himself. Castiel watched Dean's face as he moved two fingers inside the human, looking for any discomfort and watching for signs of pleasure as Dean pushed his fingers deeper. He wet his lips, swallowing before saying, "Tell me what to do Dean."

Dean laid his head back on Castiel's shoulder and arched his back.

"Deeper," he whispered huskily, pressing Castiel's fingers further inside himself. "Like before, when you fucked me."

He drew Castiel's fingers almost out of himself before pushing them back in, biting his lip and moaning as the angel's fingertips brushed against his prostate. He jolted in pleasure.

"There! Right there, please," Dean moaned as Castiel touched something inside him, a small bump that felt different from the velvety softness of Dean's passage. Intrigued by the human's reaction Castiel pressed the spot again, dragging the pads of his fingers over it and drawing a keening sound from Dean's throat, his hand tightening on the angel's thigh as he pressed down on the fingers inside him. The action reminded Castiel of the erection in his hand and he gave it a firm stroke as he pressed the spot again, alternating between stroking Dean and thrusting his fingers inside him, manipulating the spot inside and caressing his balls before sweeping a hand up to glide over a nipple, trailing warm water in his wake and watching goose bumps appear as a soft breeze blew over them.

Dean was arching, writhing in Castiel's arms making the water churn around them, sloshing over the sides of the tub and running down the steps, moans and cries falling from his lips as the angel brought him closer to the edge. He released the angel's wrist, his hand rising over his head and suddenly grasping a handful of feathers. Castiel jerked in surprise, a cry tearing from his throat as the low throb of arousal suddenly spiked and he found himself coming against Deans hip as the human clenched around his thrusting fingers and his cock pulsed in Castiel's hand, shooting into the water around them.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Yes, I, Eric Kripke, have nothing better to do with my time than write fanfiction of my own show. Pffft, I wish. Not mine, never will be

Warnings: self harm, little bit of wing!kink (not sure if that's really a warning), rough sex

Summary: Dean begins craving pain. Castiel is always gentle but Dean wants to hurt and starts to harm himself during sex.

Dean was on his hands and knees in the middle of his Master's large bed, the angel draped over his back, his cock deep inside the human as he pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses to the back of Dean's neck and shoulders. Dean moaned, arching his back to get closer to the hot body on top of his, to force the cock piercing him further inside; pressing back every time Castiel withdrew. He gripped his own weeping erection in a tight fist, jerking himself in time to the angel's thrusts into his body, chasing that spark that would send him tumbling over the edge but it remained just out of reach. He whined, high in his throat, as he sped up his hand before lowering his upper body to the bed, resting his sweaty forehead on his arm.

"Harder," he begged, "Please."

The bed moved as Castiel shifted on his knees, gripping Dean's hips tighter before complying. Dean grunted at the force, his breath catching every time the angel brushed against his sweet spot but his orgasm remained stubbornly out of reach. Letting out a near sob of frustration Dean tightened the hand on his dick to the point of pain and gasped at the jolt of feeling that shot through him, arching his back as he spilled all over his hand and the sheets beneath them. He heard Master Castiel's breath catch a moment later, the angel giving one more deep thrust before liquid heat flooded the humans' insides.

Castiel pressed his forehead between Dean's shoulder blades as the human caught his breath, trembling slightly beneath him. Dean let out a sigh as Master Castiel pulled out of him, falling to his side on the so-soft sheets and running his hand over the wet spot under Dean. The sheets were dry when Dean collapsed on the spot a second later. Master Castiel was awesome.

Several months after that first day, Dean had dropped his guard enough to begin to sleep again. At first he would simply curl up beside the foot of the bed but, with a great deal of patience, Castiel was able to coax him into staying in the bed after their couplings and, a few months later, seek out the comfort of the mattress and soft sheets on his own whether the angel was there or not. He had slowly been loosing his fear of Castiel as well. Nearly a year later the human still called him Master, though Dean sometimes added Castiel's name after the title so the angel counted it as a step in the right direction. They had two thousand Earth years at their disposal after all, they could afford to take things slowly.

After placing Dean in his charge, Michael had released Castiel from his usual duties for the foreseeable future, telling him to devote his full attention to Dean's care and recovery so, for the first time in his existence, Castiel found himself with free time on his hands. He had no need of sleep but found that he enjoyed lying beside Dean on their large bed, Castiel drifting in a meditative haze while the human slept, one of Castiel's wings blanketing him. Dean, Castiel had found, had a fascination with the angel's wings and Castiel had countless times lost himself in the feel of Dean's fingers sliding through his feathers or pulled into awareness by hands on his wings. Like now.

Castiel focused on Dean who had his attention trained on his hand as he loosely fisted a long primary feather, trailing his fingers from where it emerged from under the primary coverts and following the soft edges down to the end only to bring his hand up and do it again. Castiel sighed in pleasure, flaring the wing a little wider to give Dean better access and was soon enjoying the feeling of both of Dean's hands carding through his feathers.

Dean wiggled closer to the angel's body, nuzzling against his shoulder before raising his face to briefly look Castiel in the eye. The angel smiled as their eyes met and held for a brief moment before Dean's own dropped to Castiel's mouth, unconsciously licking his own lips. Castiel cupped the back of the human's head and pressed their lips together in the kiss he knew Dean wanted but couldn't ask for. It was the gentler aspects of intercourse Dean seemed to have the most trouble voicing his desire for; gentle was not something Dean had known for quite some time so Castiel did his best to give it when it was asked for, no matter how Dean did it.

The soft slide of tongues was far too brief for Castiel's tastes but if that was all Dean would allow himself for the time being, the angel would respect that. The human had finally begun to make his own choices, however trivial, and Castiel vowed to do his utmost to encourage Dean's progress. Dean ducked his head as he pulled away, trying to hide the flush on his cheeks, and rolled to press his back to Castiel's chest and the soft globes of his ass to the angel's groin.

"Please," he whispered, spreading his legs in invitation as the ever-present fire inside him began to build.

Dean shivered in pleasure and anticipation as Castiel draped a wing over the both of them and wrapped an arm around Dean's chest to keep them pressed as close as possible as his other hand traced slick fingers over his opening. Dean gripped the arm around his chest with both hands, burying his face in one of the pillows and letting out a low whine as two of Master Castiel's fingers breached him. The slight burn sent a jolt of pleasure straight through him, making his rising erection twitch and he eagerly pressed into the intrusion. He sighed as the angel's fingers slid deeper and thoroughly slicked his passage but he needed more. Like he'd read Dean's mind Castiel removed his fingers only long enough to pull Dean's leg back over the angel's own hip and replace the digits with his cock.

Dean moaned, long and low, shuddering all over as Castiel eased into the human, pressing his own forehead against the back of Dean's neck as the impossible heat of his body surrounded the angel. Dean began moving almost immediately, working his hips in a hard, fast rhythm as Castiel held him close and gripped Dean's member in a firm, knowing fist. Dean closed his eyes, trying to lose himself in his Master's attentions, like he'd done so many times before, but couldn't.

It was good, so very good. Master Castiel filled him up just right, knew how to grip Dean to make him spill almost embarrassingly fast, but lately, it wasn't enough. Lately, Dean had begun to dream of Alastair. He wanted to call them nightmares but they really weren't. His old Master would hurt him, chain him to a rack and beat him, whip him until Dean's skin hung in ribbons and his blood pooled beneath him then Alastair would fuck him, whisper in his ear how Master Castiel would never be able to do Dean like Alastair did. He'd never be to Dean what Alastair had been, hurt him the way the demon could, make him crave the pain, make it a pleasure all its own, and then Alastair would sink his teeth into the exposed muscle of Dean's back or shoulder or the back of his neck and grip his cock just right and Dean would cum so hard he'd pass out then wake up next to Master Castiel with his own seed cooling on his skin.

For awhile, Master Castiel's gentler form of fucking had been enough, but not anymore. Growling in frustration as he remained just on the edge Dean reached down and replaced Master's hand with his own, jerking his cock to his own harsh rhythm as Master gripped his hip and angled his thrusts to hit Dean's prostate.

Dean clenched around Castiel where he was buried deep in the human's body and the angel moaned, releasing his grip on Dean's hip to slip beneath his thigh and spread him wider as Dean's free hand dug its nails into Castiel's arm. Dean's own moans were getting louder as he came closer to climax, interspersed with grunts and growls and demands of 'harder' and 'faster' which Castiel gladly obeyed, slamming into Dean with enough force to do serious damage had Dean still had a human body. As it was, Dean just begged for more, furiously stripping his cock until the pleasure swept over them both.

Dean drifted blissfully in the afterglow until the hands ghosting over his sensitive flesh turned hard, grabbing his wrist and forcing him onto his back, Master Castiel's voice demanding to know what Dean had done.

Castiel stared in horror at the damage Dean had done to himself; the blood beneath his nails and the deep ragged furrows he'd dug into the skin of his penis. There were more scratches on his thighs and abdomen but those were nowhere near as bad. The angel gripped both of the human's wrists and pinned them to the bed as his eyes searched Dean's face.

"Why, Dean?" he demanded the wide-eyed soul. "Why would you do this to yourself?"

He knew he sounded harsh, Dean shrinking away from the tone, trying to curl in on himself, but Castiel needed to know.

"Why?" he demanded again, his grip tightening.

"I'm sorry," Dean whispered. "I needed it – I don't know why, I just… please don't be angry, I need it, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…"

Dean was becoming frantic and Castiel pulled the human into his arms, wrapping his wings around them both and gently stroking Dean's back and shoulders.

"It's okay, Dean," he soothed as the man clung to him. "I'm not angry, I'm not… Calm yourself, Dean. Everything is okay."

Eventually Dean's panic waned and Castiel used a nudge of Grace to urge the soul into sleep. Another wash of Grace healed the horrific damage Dean had done to himself before Castiel gathered his clothing and once again sought the council of his Brother.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Yes, I, Eric Kripke, have nothing better to do with my time than write fanfiction of my own show. Pffft, I wish. Not mine, never will be.

Warnings: sex in Hell, blood, pain, restraints, whipping (if I missed anything I think _sex in Hell_ sums it up pretty well. **NOT** a happy chapter)

Summary: Castiel seeks Michael's advice and then discovers just what kind of sex Dean became accustomed to in the Pit.

"I don't understand, Brother," Castiel said as he and Michael walked along the banks of the stream that wound through the Garden. "Why would he do that? What made Dean hurt himself so badly?"

"Humans are one of our Father's most amazing creations, Castiel," Michael said after a moment. "Do you know why?"

Castiel was silent, many of the countless responses praising their Father's vast wisdom rising to his lips, but none passing. Finally, he just shook his head. Michael graced the Seraph with a warm smile for his honesty.

"There are many theories," he continued. "But I believe that they are held so highly because of their resiliency."

Castiel regarded the archangel, a thoughtful frown on his face and his head cocked slightly to one side.

"How so?" he asked.

"Humans have a remarkable ability to adapt to changes, to survive situations that would destroy most other beings and not just survive, but overcome them and thrive."

Michael could almost hear his Brother's thoughts the other angel was projecting so much, but he politely kept the illusion of privacy between them.

"Alastair offered Dean pain," the archangel continued, "Until it was nearly all he knew; trained Dean to accept it as a different sort of pleasure but pleasure none-the-less. Alastair planned to keep Dean for all eternity and wasted no time molding him into what the demon wished him to be."

"And to save himself," Castiel said softly, "Dean learned to crave it."

Michael nodded.

"One hundred years is a very long time for a human."

Castiel came to a stop by a bend in the stream, his wings twitching restlessly.

"I believe I know what Dean requires of me now," he said. "Thank you, Brother."

"You're always welcome to seek me out," Michael said. "Especially where Dean is concerned."

Castiel gave a short nod before spreading his silvered blue wings and taking to the sky, flying back to Dean. Michael watched him go and took a deep breath of the sweet, clean air before spreading all six of his own white, pearlescent wings and launching himself skyward. He couldn't remember the last time he'd flown just for the sheer joy of it which, considering the length of his memory, was far too long.

Dean was still sleeping when Castiel entered their rooms, whimpering and writhing on the bed, caught up in some dream. The angel settled on the side of the bed and reached out to the human, placing two fingers on Dean's damp forehead. A flexing of Grace placed Castiel's consciousness in the midst of Dean's dream, though the angel would have been much more comfortable deeming it a nightmare.

Dean was back in Hell in what Castiel presumed to be Alastair's private rooms. He was naked and chained on his stomach to a metal frame so caked with blood and filth that Castiel couldn't tell what it was made of. The frame was angled so that Dean was nearly upright though his feet were inches from the floor. Alastair was behind Dean and had assumed a form that was reminiscent of illustrations of the Devil from the Middle Ages. Nearly seven feet tall, the demon's torso was the only portion of him vaguely human shaped, his head and lower half were those of a goat complete with horns and cloven hooves, a massive phallus nearly the size of Dean's own arm jutted from Alastair's groin, and a long, whip-like tail covered in spines lashed the air behind him.

As Castiel watched Alastair's tail flew through the air to kiss Dean's exposed back, the spines digging into his flesh and tearing it open. It wasn't the first lash, nor was it the fiftieth, Dean's back was a red ruin, white bone showing through in places as well as freshly healed skin. Dean cried out as the tail hit his flesh and was jerked away, writhing against his restraints, and that's when Castiel became aware of the fact that the chains weren't circling Dean's wrists, they were pierced through them and Dean's every movement tore the horrific wounds wider. Blood ran from his wrists, down his arms and body to join the ever-growing pool beneath him as Alastair leaned forward to run a long, forked tongue over and into the newest wound.

Dean moaned brokenly, arching his back closer to the demon's probing tongue and revealing to the hidden angel that his cock was hard between his legs and leaking a steady stream of precum.

"Please, Master," Dean begged hoarsely.

Alastair licked Dean's blood from his lips and focused his white, slit-pupiled eyes on the soul.

"Please what, Dean?" he asked.

"Please fuck me."

Alastair smiled, his lips spreading disturbingly wide, wide enough to reveal the multitude of needle-like teeth lining his mouth.

"Well, since you asked so nicely," he replied, running one large, clawed hand down Dean's back, collecting the man's blood to slick his massive cock.

Dean choked on a scream as Alastair buried his huge phallus inside his abused body in one savage thrust of his hips, the human's hands clenching into fists and freeing more blood to run down his arms as he shuddered violently… the way he did, Castiel realized, just before experiencing a powerful orgasm.

Alastair apparently knew this as well because one of his hands wrapped long, slender fingers around the base of Dean's erection and hissed in his ear.

"Ah, ah, ah," he chastised. "You know the rules. No cumming until I tell you."

Dean bit his lip and nodded frantically.

"Yes, Master," he whispered. "Thank you, Master."

"My pleasure," the demon replied, fitting both of his hands around Dean's hips once the man had regained control and slowly withdrawing.

"Now," he said, his tip poised at Dean's entrance. "I need you to scream for me."

Then he slammed back inside and Dean did as he was told. He screamed and moaned and sobbed as the demon plowed into him until there was so much blood pooled beneath the two of them that Castiel wondered if it would ever stop. There was blood bubbling on his lips and running down his chin when Dean tipped his head to one side, near silent words falling from his lips. Words like '_Master'_ and '_please'_ and '_need it, need you, pleasepleaseplease'_. Alastair arched back, lips pulled away from those jagged needle teeth then blurred forward, like a striking snake, and buried those teeth to the hilt in the tender flesh Dean offered him. The human let out a wail that chilled Castiel to his very Grace and he wrapped his wings tightly around himself. It was a sound he'd never heard before, a sound that spoke of a pleasure the angel couldn't comprehend and, at the same time, despair that cut to the soul.

Alastair pulled back and whispered a command in what sounded to Castiel like a bastardized version of Enochian, then Dean was cumming in thick spurts onto the floor. When the human lost consciousness, Castiel fully expected to be pulled back to reality as Dean awoke, he certainly didn't expect the dream version of Alastair to continue pumping into Dean's battered body until the demon found his pleasure with a low growl. He absently slithered his forked tongue over the bite on Dean's shoulder, lapping up the blood welling to the surface before pulling out with a sigh and giving Dean's ass a firm smack.

"I trust you enjoyed the show," Alastair said and Castiel jolted in shock as he realized that the demon was staring directly at him.

"How are you in Dean's dream?" Castiel demanded, recovering quickly.

Alastair shrugged, moving away from Dean's limp form and swaggering closer to the angel. Castiel flared his wings threateningly, a silent command for the demon to keep his distance. The creature leaned against a nearby wall and snickered at the display.

"It's not so much Dean's dream," he answered, "As it is my memory. A favorite of mine, I'm sure you can see why."

Alastair inclined his great horned head toward Dean's unconscious body. Castiel immediately moved to block him from the demon's gaze. Alastair seemed to find that immensely amusing and grinned wide enough to reveal every one of his razor-sharp fangs.

"He's such a responsive bitch," he continued, ignoring Castiel's glower. "But then, you already knew that."

Castiel took a threatening step forward.

"You will leave this place and never return," he commanded. "Dean is no longer yours to torment…"

"Oh, but he is," Alastair interrupted. "He was mine first and he'll always _be_ mine."

He gave that disturbingly wide grin again.

"And there's not a thing you can do about it. Where ever he goes, however you try to hide him…" he glanced toward the wing that shielded Dean from his view, "He shines like a beacon in the night, he'll never be free of me!"

Castiel drew his sword, throwing it in the same motion, but the demon was gone; nothing remaining but darkness and the dying echoes of Alastair's laughter. Castiel jolted back to awareness, flat on his back on their bed with Dean's concerned face hovering over him.

"Master?" the human questioned and Castiel drew him into his arms, surrounding the soul with wings and Grace, his mind whirling with what he could possibly do next.


	5. Chapter 5

In all the years of his existence, Castiel had never heard of a problem quite like this. Never before had a demon been able to access a soul within the safety of Heaven and the angel, honestly, had no idea what to do.

At first Castiel had forbidden Dean to sleep at all, assuming that, if the demon was accessing the human through his dreams that cutting off the dreams would bring an end to the torment… it didn't. It was like, now that Dean remembered how to sleep, he couldn't go without it. After only a week the soul was pale and gaunt and had deep, dark circles under his eyes. Castiel could see the damage being caused and cursed the demon Alastair ten fold for what he'd done to Dean.

The angel's next course of action was to guard Dean's dreams from within and it worked… for a while. Castiel was ever vigilant, steering Dean's dreams to happier places when the darkness of Hell began to seep in, but Alastair was cunning and crafty and, twice now, had sent hellhounds into Dean's dreamscape to distract the angel while the demon had his way with Dean's dream self.

Castiel was loosing himself. Dean was still craving the painful sex that Alastair had programmed into him and the angel couldn't see an end in sight. To keep Dean from injuring himself Castiel was forced to bind the soul but Dean couldn't experience pleasure without the pain leaving the angel to administer the tortures the soul craved. He never went as far as Alastair had, only the bare minimum needed for Dean to achieve release, but angels weren't meant for this. It was putting a strain on his Grace to continue but he couldn't think of another way.

At the moment, Castiel had Dean on his stomach on their large bed, the humans hands bound together with silk cord and tied to the headboard. Dean grasped the excess cord with both hands, propping himself up on his elbows and moaning as Castiel delivered another stinging blow to his reddened backside. The flesh was hot to the touch and Dean's cock hung, full and leaking, beneath him, twitching with every blow.

"Please, Master," he sobbed. "Need it, please…"

Castiel delivered another hard slap to the back of Dean's thigh before moving behind the human's spread legs. He was barely had enough to penetrate Dean, not finding sex enjoyable in the least since Alastair's return, but thrust into Dean's slicked passage because it was what the human needed. Castiel refused to take Dean dry, even though he'd begged for it, but had compromised by using only the barest minimum of lubrication required to not tear the delicate skin. Dean moaned, clenching around the cock inside him, and thrust back. Castiel landed another harsh slap to one reddened cheek, his other hand gripping a handful of Dean's hair and jerking his head back.

The angel fucked into Dean with hard, brutal thrusts, pegging his prostate and landing more blows to his ass and thighs, dragging nails down his back and across his stomach until the human trembled into orgasm.

Castiel pulled out as soon as Dean collapsed beneath him. Freeing the man's hands and cleaning him with a brush of Grace, Castiel made sure Dean was sleeping soundly before the angel retreated to the bathroom and its huge sunken tub. His cock was flaccid by the time he reached the tub and sank into the hot water it contained. He kept part of his awareness on Dean as he scrubbed at his skin, trying to rid himself of the taint he could feel coating him like oil, left behind by what Alastair had forced him to do by making Dean crave it. He didn't think the demon would plague Dean's dreams, he seldom did after Castiel broke down and gave Dean the pain he craved, but the angel knew Alastair may have only established the pattern to lull him into false security and attack when Castiel's guard was down.

"Well, don't you look like shit," a voice observed, jarring Castiel from his dark thoughts.

Sword in hand and wings flared wide, Castiel stood poised to attack until his eyes caught up to his brain and he realized who it was that had spoken.

"Gabriel," he said, banishing his sword and easing from his defensive posture. "Forgive me, Brother. I didn't realize that you were there."

The archangel snorted, "No kidding."

He pushed away from the pillar he was leaning against, swaggering into the room as Castiel dressed himself. Clapping the Seraph on the shoulder Gabriel ducked out into the Garden, Castiel followed behind after a quick flash of Grace assured him that Dean was being left unmolested in his sleep.

"So," he continued, stopping by the stream that ran by the portion of Heaven reserved for the Righteous Man. "How's ol' Dean-o been holding up?"

"You know Dean?" Castiel asked, unable to hide his surprise. Gabriel shrugged.

"Ran into him a few times while I was… on vacation. And, if you don't mind me saying, you're not looking so good, bro."

Castiel's wings drew tight to his back as he averted his eyes, keeping Alastair away from Dean was taking more energy than he'd anticipated but he hadn't thought it was showing.

"How long have you been battling this demon, Castiel?" Gabriel asked, frowning when the other angel muttered something. "What was that? Didn't quite catch it."

"I said seven months."

Gabriel whistled, "Wow. And in all that time, you never thought to ask Michael for help?"

"Our General has more important things to worry about."

"Oh, for the love of Dad, Castiel," Gabriel exclaimed. "Get your head outta your ass! Have you looked at the state of your Grace lately? You're a mess!"

"I'm fine, Gabriel."

"Uh huh," the recently returned archangel didn't look convinced. Walking to Castiel's side, he grabbed the younger angel's right wing and pulled, spreading it out. "When was the last time you had these groomed?"

Castiel scowled, jerking his wing out of the archangel's grasp.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of, Cas," Gabriel said, allowing the other angel to tuck his wing against his back. "Demons of Alastair's caliber shouldn't be taken lightly, I mean, it took _Michael_ to toss his ass in the Pit when the guy was _human_. One Seraph can't hold him off forever."

"My name is Castiel," he grumbled. Gabriel sighed.

"Fine, then. _Castiel_… go talk to Michael. Dean's more important to our fearless leader than he lets on."


	6. Chapter 6

Title: From Hell With Love, pt. 6

Author: Dire Banshee

Pairing: Michael/Dean/Castiel (for this part), implied past Dean/Alastair

Genre: AU after Season 3, you just need to know who Alastair and Castiel are

Rating: NC-17

Word Count: 2,665

Disclaimer: Yes, I, Eric Kripke, have nothing better to do with my time than write fanfiction of my own show. Pffft, I wish. Not mine, never will be

Warnings: wing!kink, dub-con rough sex, collaring, double penetration

Summary: Michael devises a plan to block Alastair's connection to Dean so the human can finally begin healing

Michael was, to say the least, shocked by Castiel's appearance after the Seraphim had taken Gabriel's advice and sought Michael's council again, for the first time in decades.

"Castiel?" the Archangel questioned when the Seraph landed outside of his door. He took one look at the state of Castiel's Grace and quickly ushered the other angel into his quarters, sending out a call for the healers.

"What happened, Castiel?" Michael demanded. "Who have you been battling?"

At the younger angel's reply of "Alastair" Michael very nearly saw red, to use the human expression, and immediately called Gabriel and Raphael to his side. The healer, a young angel named Zuriel, arrived almost immediately and set to work restoring Castiel's Grace that had been battered and stretched thin from so many years of standing between the Archdemon and his prize as the angel explained to Michael what had been happening.

"I'm sorry, Brother," Castiel concluded after the healer had finished and left Michael's quarters. "I fear I'm not strong enough to hold Alastair off for much longer."

There was a weary sigh from the doorway.

"Little bro," Gabriel said, preceding Raphael into the room. "With an attitude like that, you and Dean deserve each other."

Michael frowned at Gabriel before giving a brief but thorough recap of what Castiel had told him then instructed Raphael to lead several garrisons on a search of Heaven's defenses and perimeter to see if he could find the weak spot Alastair had been exploiting. When the eldest Archangel turned to address Castiel again he found Gabriel beside the Seraph, running gentle fingers through Castiel's feathers. The angel's eyes were closed, his features arranged into an expression of absolute bliss as Gabriel groomed him. Seating himself beside the Messenger, Michael coaxed Castiel's other wing onto his lap. The silver-tipped blue feathers were as unruly as Castiel's hair and, as he combed them into place, it didn't take Michael long to find the first damaged one.

The shaft had snapped about half-way down, the bottom portion hanging by a thread, and leaking Grace-light over Michael's fingers. Gripping the damaged feather at the base he gave it a firm tug, making Castiel yelp in pained surprise as it slid free, a small bead of blood welling up in the empty spot. Michael pressed his thumb over the spot, rubbing gently to soothe the pain as Castiel flinched again when Gabriel removed another feather.

"When was the last time you had someone see to your wings, Brother?" Michael asked.

"Too long," Gabriel replied before Castiel could answer, jerking out another damaged feather.

Wincing, Castiel nodded. "Too long."

"This isn't a burden you need carry alone, Castiel," Michael said, smoothing feathers into place. "There aren't many of our Brothers who could stand against a demon of Alastarir's power for long and even fewer that could best him. That you've held him at bay for so long is impressive."

"Or stupid," Gabriel muttered, pulling another damaged feather.

Michael glowered at the youngest Archangel and Gabriel rolled his eyes.

"Impressive works too, I guess," he grumbled.

"Not enough," Castiel said softly, folding his wings to his back and turning to face his Brothers. "I cannot keep Alastair away and Dean is suffering because of it." He glanced down before saying, "You may need to choose another guardian for him, Michael."

Castiel's tone was sincere but his wings trembled against his back, betraying his true feelings.

"I may," Michael replied, watching the Seraph's wings drop in resignation before continuing, "But only if this doesn't work first."

Castiel and Gabriel were both watching him with near identical expressions of confusion, Castiel's head tipped slightly to one side.

"If _what_ doesn't work?" Gabriel demanded.

Rather than answer Michael reached into Castiel's wings, which the Seraph allowed, and yanked free a long, healthy covert, pinching the tip between his fingers to hold in the Grace that dripped free before digging through his own feathers. Gabriel's eyes were huge as understanding dawned.

"No way!" he exclaimed as the eldest angel pulled free one of his own feathers and pressed it beside Castiel's, his fingers rubbing Grace-light over both. "Michael, you can't be serious!"

"I am," he replied, not taking his eyes off of his work.

"But…"

"If this does not work, I fear we'll have very little hope of winning the coming war," he said. "The Righteous Man must be saved and that will not happen as long as Alastair can still get to him."

Castiel was watching them silently, his eyes fixed on the object Michael had twisted their Grace and feathers into. It shown like silver in the light but twisted and moved like softest leather, the Enochian sigils for protection, healing and ownership engraved upon the band.

"Brother," he began hesitantly and Michael looked at him, standing and holding out a hand.

"Come, Castiel. Let us go and save your human."

By the time Michael and Castiel reached Dean's rooms, the human was beginning to wake. He whined softly as the angels slipped into the room, the ever-present embers of need beginning to flare into flames of desire. Castiel went to him immediately, smoothing a cool hand over Dean's sweaty forehead and carding fingers through his hair.

"Master," Dean whispered and nuzzled against the angel's hand, his tongue darting out to lick Cas' palm.

"Dean," Castiel spoke. "This is my Brother, Michael."

Dean followed Master's eyes to the other angel standing by the door, a vague spark of recognition flaring at the sight. Dean knew this angel; he'd been there when Master Alastair had given him away. He'd given Dean to Master Castiel. His eyes flicked back to his Master, wondering if he was going to give him to this angel for the day. Master Alastair had done that a lot; he'd enjoyed watching Dean being fucked by other demons, seeing if they could make him scream like he did for Alastair. Sometimes they had and then he'd be punished for daring to replace his Master.

Dean's eyes were wide as he studied Master Castiel's face. Why was the other angel here? Was he being punished? But what had he done? He'd been obedient, hadn't done anything Master Castiel told him not to, hadn't hurt himself… Then, it dawned on him. He'd made Master Castiel hurt him. The angel hadn't wanted to but Dean had disobeyed, had hurt himself when Master told him not to… he'd _forced_ his Master!

Castiel frowned at Dean's horrified face, looking to his Brother for an explanation of the soul's behavior. Michael sent him a reassuring pulse of Grace, telling him without words that all would be well, to trust him and Castiel gave a brief nod. The Archangel's expression was stony when he turned to Dean. The man was his true vessel, or would have been had things gone differently, a fact that gave the Archangel a greater connection to the soul. He'd heard Dean's panicked thoughts and, Father forgive him; he was going to use the human's fears to force his cooperation. Dean had to be himself before the War began and that would never happen while he was under Alastair's thumb.

"I think you owe your Master an apology, Dean," Michael said, his voice a low growl of disapproval that had Dean ducking his head in submission. "Show him how sorry you are."

Castiel frowned at his Brother, forehead creased and blue eyes troubled as Dean scrambled to make amends. The Seraph suddenly had a lapful of naked human nuzzling at his neck, hands trailing over his body, seeking out his hot spots with deadly accuracy. He let out a startled groan of pleasure as Dean's hand slipped into his pants and gripped his cock in a large, hot hand, stroking him the way he enjoyed most. Castiel's eyes flicked uncertainly to his Brother, who had moved closer to the bed and stood watching them with hooded, unreadable eyes. His wings were pressed tight to his back and his Grace was held tightly in check, giving nothing away and leaving Castiel with the unexplainable urge to keep the Archangel far from Dean.

Michael's eyes rose to his and a soft breeze blew through the room. Castiel thought he could hear his Brother's voice on the wind. _Trust me_. Licking dry lips, Castiel tightened his arms around Dean's shoulders and nodded then caught Dean's face between his hands.

"I'm sorry, so sorry, forgive me please Master," Dean whispered the litany over and over, his breath brushing Castiel's lips before the Seraph nodded and sealed his mouth over Dean's, cutting off the words.

His hands swept down Dean's sides but Dean gave a sudden broken whimper at the same moment Castiel felt his Brother's hands under his on Dean's hips, pulling the human back toward the Archangel. Dean's arms were tight around Castiel's shoulders, silently begging the Seraph to keep him, to not let the other angel hurt him, and Castiel ran a soothing hand through his hair as Michael growled, "Be still, Dean."

The human stilled in Castiel's arms, his larger frame trembling in uncertainty. Castiel kissed his mouth; his cheeks and the small dots of color on them ran soothing hands over Dean's back and down his sides and Dean buried his face in Castiel's throat, barely making a sound as Michael slipped three slick fingers inside of him. He didn't want this other angel to fuck him, Dean realized. He would, if Master Castiel told him to , but he really didn't want to, didn't really want Master Alastair's visits either but he was so accustomed to them, some small part of him missing his first Master but he silently swore that he'd give it all up if Master Castiel would just keep him, please just keep him.

Castiel's eyes found his Brother's as Dean pleaded and begged against his skin, clinging to him with all of his strength. Michael's face was grim, the glowing collar wrapped around his hand pulsing with their combined Graces reminding of what had to be done. He felt like a bastard, opening Dean up while the human clung to his Brother and begged for Castiel to keep him, but he also took heart. The true Dean Winchester was beginning to shine through, the proximity of both Seraph and Archangel blocking Alastair's influence enough to begin winning Dean back a piece at a time. He pressed his lips to the back of Dean's neck, an apology for the necessity of his actions, as he withdrew his fingers and spoke in Dean's ear.

"Ride your Master, Dean," he commanded. "Show us who you belong to."

Dean eagerly shifted forward, helped by Michael's hands still on his hips, and impaled himself on Castiel, letting out a low moan of pleasure as his Master's cock split him open. Castiel himself was looking a little shell shocked by his Brother's actions and words, his wings flared out on either side to maintain his balance as Dean rode him hard and fast, muttering apologies and promises to be better against his neck and Michael tried to offer him a reassuring smile. Their actions were working but this would get worse before it got better. They needed to sever Alastair's ties to Dean and replace them with Castiel's own or, if not sever, at least make Castiel the one Dean turned to first for comfort and safety, for protection from things in his waking world.

Dean clenched hard around the cock inside of him, arching into Master Castiel's touches and soaking up his words of praise and forgiveness. Master Cas' hand wrapped around his own erection and Dean realized with a shock that he was close to cumming, so close and with none of the pain he'd been craving for so long but then the other angel's hands tightened on his hips, preventing him from moving. He whined in frustration but stilled when Master Castiel breathed the soft command into his ear. The sound turned to a high keen of pain as the other angel began pushing into him alongside Master Castiel and Dean tried to wiggle away from the stretching, tearing, burning pain as the other cock forced him wider than he'd been in a very long time.

Dean was shaking by the time Michael bottomed out inside of him and the Archangel paused, running a soothing hand down the human's spine and closing his own eyes as he tried to collect himself. It had been a very long time since he'd done this, ever since Lucifer… Gritting his teeth he took a deep breath and locked eyes with Castiel who looked almost as pained as his human, though not in the same way.

_I'm sorry Brother_, he thought before commanding, "Hold him."

Castiel tightened his jaw and locked his hands over Dean's shoulders, holding the human in place as Michael began to move. He could feel his Brother sliding against him inside of Dean and closed his eyes, fighting back the surprising pleasure and brought his wings up to caress Dean's sides, Dean's pleas cutting to his heart.

Michael forced himself to be quick, holding the collar out to Castiel as he neared his peak. He had to tap the Seraph on the shoulder and wait for Castiel to open his eyes before he could hand it over, his other hand tightening on Dean's hip as the unwelcome pleasure suddenly spiked and he spilled himself, Grace and essence both, inside the human as Castiel fastened the collar around Dean's neck.

Pulling out as gently as he could he nodded to Castiel and fled their quarters through the wash room that looked out over the Garden. Castiel watched his Brother go but swiftly turned his attention to the shaking human in his arms. He urged Dean's head up from where he'd buried his face in Castiel's shoulder and gently wiped away the tears that coursed down his face.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please," he was whispering over and over, his eyes clenched shut tight.

"Dean," Castiel said gently. "Dean, look at me."

He eventually coaxed Dean's green eyes open and forced a smile to his own face.

"You did very well, Dean," he praised. "You were so good and that will never happen again, I promise you. It was the only way we could protect you from Alastair."

He enfolded Dean in his wings, pulling the human tight to his chest and muttering soothing words in Enochian and English and languages Dean had never heard until Castiel's thumb brushed the collar around Dean's throat. The human gasped at the sudden spark of pleasure that coursed through him at the action, his loosened channel fluttering around where Castiel was still buried inside of him and Dean rocked his hips, pressing his half-hard erection against Master Cas' belly. Castiel's hands tightened on his hips, looking into Dean's eyes as he asked, "Are you sure, Dean?"

Dean rocked again, Master Cas brushing against his sweet spot deep inside and nodded, "Please."

Castiel enfolded them completely in his wings as he began rocking his hips in time with Dean, not thrusting, just moving slowly, gently as they held and touched and kissed, breathing each other's air until the waves broke over them both.

Gabriel found Michael in one of the hot springs in the Garden, submerged up to his neck, curled in on himself with his wings wrapped tight around his body. He sat down without a word, dangling his feet in the water, occasionally brushing his brother's feathers with his feet.

"Did it work?" he asked quietly and Michael nodded, the first indication he'd given of acknowledging Gabriel's presence.

"Are you okay?"

Michael was silent for a long time, gazing out over the Garden, then sighed.

"I just want it to be over."

Gabriel's gaze fell to the grass at his side, absently running his fingers through the soft blades.

"You and me both, bro," he finally said. "You and me both."


End file.
